by Kacey Shea
All their hands shoot up.
I laugh at their enthusiasm and unanimous decision. “Okay. Okay.” I stand from my chair and walk to a nearby cupboard to retrieve paper and pens. “Let’s take a few minutes to write down your preferences and I’ll do the best I can. No promises, though. I still need to run this by my boss. Cool?”
“You’re the best, Miss Martin,” Hunter calls from the corner of the room.
“Save your flattery,” I tease, rolling my eyes as I pass the stack of paper and basket of writing utensils.
“Do you take bribes, then?” He smirks, earning a few giggles.
“No.” I shake my head and try to appear stern, though I’m sure I do a shit job. Even when these kids are a pain in my ass, they are rather entertaining. “But keep talking and I’ll stick you at the front desk.”
He mimes zipping his mouth closed and gets to writing.
As much work as this week has been, I have to say there’s something satisfying about running point on this program. The teens are bright and full of promise, and the fact they’re spending their summer here instead of off somewhere getting into trouble fills me with hope. For the future. For myself.
Fifteen minutes later I send them off to enjoy the weekend. With the stack of written responses, I walk back to my office. I still need to send a few emails and rework the volunteer assignments, but after that there’s no reason to stay here at the center. I have the weekend off, and it’s a lot of free time to fill. A sense of dread creeps into my thoughts. What the hell am I going to do for two days?
My mouth waters at the memory of weekends past. Ones I spent socializing in a neighborhood bar. God, I hate that the urge is still there. After everything I’ve been through and all the hard work, that’s where my mind goes first. My gaze is on the floor, my expression sour, when I turn the corner and almost slam into a wall of a man. Before I even lift my gaze, I know it’s him.
“Whoa. Slow down, tiger.” His hands steady my shoulders. “You almost took me out.”
I step back and shake off his touch. “Sorry.”
“Hey.” He moves to meet my gaze. “You okay?” The genuine concern in his eyes is disarming. Can he see that I’m struggling? That I’m so damn tempted to throw away months of sobriety? That if he was drinking, I’d kiss his lips just so I could have a taste?
“Fine,” I whisper, my eyes stuck on his lips. I’m day dreaming, but about what? How good it’d feel to be kissed? Or how I wish they’d taste like the forbidden substance I’ve given up? I don’t quite know.
His throat strains with the bob of his Adam’s apple. “Alicia?”
My name from his mouth startles me from my thoughts. “Sorry.”
“Hell must’ve frozen over.”
“Huh?”
“You just apologized. Repeatedly. And I don’t know what for.”
“Don’t be an ass.”
He winks. “You talk to all your volunteers like this?”
I don’t, but I don’t give him the admission. I should be more professional. If someone were to catch us, I’d no doubt be written up or fired. “Right. You have a good night, Mr. Matthews.” I stride past him and toward the safety of my office.
“Mr. Matthews?” His chuckle follows me down the hall, his long legs quickly catching up to my pace. “Please. I think we’re beyond such formalities.”
“Aren’t you done for the day?”
“Just clocking out now.” But he doesn’t hang back by the computer to log in and report his hours. He follows me to my office, waiting at the threshold as I unlock the door and push inside.
“Did you need something else?”
His brows rise, and a soft grin plays at his lips. “Dinner?”
A flash of my lips trailing his skin, our bodies pressed together, my desire pulsing through a drunken haze dances in the back of my mind. By his tone, I wonder if he’s replaying the same memories. Of course, I’m way too chicken to ask. Besides, that’d likely lead to more bad than good. “No.”
“No?” He chuckles and leans against the door frame. “You don’t eat? Come on, Alicia. It’s just dinner. Besides, a meal seems like something a sponsor would share with her favorite sponsoree.”
We’re both vulnerable right now. Out of our element, and I don’t trust myself around this man. Not tonight. “No, Chase. You have a good weekend. Please shut the door on your way out.” My voice is cold even to my own ears, and the defeat in his posture is almost enough to make me regret my answer. Almost.
“Right.” He nods, his gaze dropping to the space between us. “Any advice to get through the next two days? From one alcoholic to another?”
I can’t tell if he’s serious or making a joke. “If you drink you won’t volunteer here.” I harden my glare. As much as I feel for him or relate to the loneliness of his question, I can’t take on his troubles. I have enough of my own. He needs to understand this is a hard line. “I’ll be testing you again Monday morning.”
“That’s fair.” He offers me a sad smile. “‘Night, Alicia. See you, Monday.”
I turn my focus back to my computer screen and hold my breath until the click of my door echoes through the quiet space. Until I’m alone. I don’t want to feel bad for him. I don’t want to understand his pain. I don’t want to hurt on his behalf. But I do.
That scares me more than the idea of a weekend alone. I feel tethered to this broken man in a way I shouldn’t. Not after all he’s done. Not after leaving the past where it belongs. This summer was supposed to be a clean break. A fresh start. But with Chase in Kitty Hawk it’s anything but. Even more confusing, a big part of me wants him to stay.
21
Chase
You know what sucks about being sober? It’s boring as fuck. Every night after work at the community center I come home to an empty place filled with incessant quiet. My thoughts drift to things I’d rather forget, but I don’t know where else to go. A restaurant or bar would cause me to drink, and for some reason I am determined not to do that. Despite what everyone assumes, I’m not an alcoholic. I’m not. If I were, I would be drinking right now.
See? Me. Not drinking. Not an addict.
It’s fine.
Only it’s really not. The empty house drives me insane. I can’t stand my own company. My thoughts. This purposeless life I’ve acquired. I’m a shell of the man I used to be, embarrassed at my own existence and what my life’s become.
Which is why I spend as much time as possible outside of the house. Volunteering fills the daytime hours, and in the evenings I find new ways to pass the time. Like sobriety chicken. The game is simple. I walk to the nearest corner gas station and stroll down each of the aisles as a test to my willpower, my mouth salivating for an ice cold beer. Some days I get a stick of jerky and a slushie. Other trips, I emerge with a bag of powdered donuts and an energy drink. Basically, instead of getting drunk I’m on track for diabetes and heart problems. Awesome.
When Alicia rejects my offer for dinner after work on Friday, I don’t head to a grocery store or stop somewhere for dinner. I walk to the gas station. These are my wild weekend plans. Yeah, it’s kinda pathetic.
My stomach grumbles and my lips are parched by the time I make it to the convenience store. I lift my hand to greet the employee on duty and make my way through the aisles, stopping first to grab a can from the wall of refrigerated beverages.
I recognize the group of kids loitering in the candy section. They’re volunteers from the center, the ones Alicia’s so desperate to win over. She’s good with them. She obviously cares but they’re teenagers, and earning their trust is going to take more than a box of donuts.
The three teens don’t notice me, their backs to my aisle. Pretending to browse the array of chips, I covertly eavesdrop on their conversation.
“Just do it,” the bigger teen goads.
“I don’t want to,” the skinny, nerdier kid says.
“Don’t be such a pussy.”
“I don’t think this is a good idea.” The girl
with them glances over her shoulder to eye the attendant behind the register. “If you want the Snickers, Hunter, I’ll buy it for you.”
“No. I don’t want you to. I want Tyler to get it. It’s just a fucking candy bar. Not like I’m asking him to swipe a bottle of beer.” Hunter. I dislike this kid, not only because he thinks he’s the shit, but because I’ve noticed how he asserts his dominance over other boys in the group. He’s the kind who uses power and intimidation to manipulate others to his will—almost as if it’s for sport. Jackass.
I move around to their aisle and interrupt before Tyler does something he regrets. “Excuse me.” I step between the boys, inserting my body and rudely standing there like a brick wall while I stare at the candy.
Hunter silently makes his way to the exit. “Bailey, you coming?” he calls from the door.
She looks at him and then back to Tyler. “Sorry.” She winces and heads outside to follow the jerk. I get it. I remember how high school rules work. Girls always fall for the troubled bad boy over anyone nice. It’s why I got laid back then. It did me no favors, though. God, I was such a dick. It makes me feel bad for this kid left behind. He’s exactly the type I would have picked on to make myself feel better.
“Hey.” I nod my chin and meet his stare. “You help out at the community center, right?”
“Yeah.” He drops his gaze to the candy bar.
“Tyler?”
He doesn’t even look up. “Yeah.”
“I’m Chase.”
“Yeah. I know.”
I almost laugh. This kid isn’t gonna make it easy for me. Hell, he isn’t gonna trust some stranger, and I don’t blame him. I’m the lame old dude surfing the aisles of the corner mart for funsies.
“That dude is a dick.” I nod toward the wall of windows. “Here.” I hand him the candy bar that’s the cause of so much anxiety. “I’ll pay at the register. You wait till I do before you smuggle it out. It’ll give you some street cred and you don’t have to commit a petty crime.”
I think he wants to smile, or maybe laugh at my offer, but all he does is turn his gaze back down to the shelves of treats. “Whatever.”
“Cool,” I say, pretending he’s impressed. I pick up a sleeve of powdered donuts and stride over to the register. “Hey, so ring me up for a full-size Snickers too. It’s for my friend in the hoodie.”
The attendant’s gaze darts over to my shoulder, a scowl on his face.
A jingle at the door pulls my gaze to the same spot. Tyler exits, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled so it covers his face. Once he’s outside and meets back up with Bailey and the jerk, he’s greeted with smiles and a whoop of approval. I don’t know how much he cares about Hunter’s praise, but the interested, soft grin that plays on the girl’s lips seems to make him stand taller. He opens the candy bar and rips it in half, giving her a piece.
Her cheeks blush as she takes it. Ah, to be young again.
“Seven fifty-six.”
“Right.” I dig into my pocket and retrieve my credit card to pay. “Thanks.” I wave good-bye.
“See you tomorrow,” the attendant says, and I wonder if he finds my little ritual pathetic or if I’m one of many who make a daily walk to this store. I stick the Monster in my pocket and rip open the donut package and stuff one in my mouth as I step outside.
As I trudge back toward my uncle’s house I take one last look at the teenagers gathered across the parking lot. Tyler meets my stare and gives the slightest of nods. If I weren’t paying attention, I would have missed it. My chest puffs a little, the knowledge that I did him a solid filling me with pride. It wasn’t much, a couple of bucks out of my wallet. The first selfless act I’ve done in so long—one I wasn’t paid to do or will ever receive recognition from. I forgot how good it feels to help someone for the sake of helping. Maybe it’s something I could try more of. I’m not completely dead or broken inside, despite what some might think. Maybe I still have more to give. Maybe there’s hope for me yet.
22
Alicia
I’m fine until the weekend hits. It’s the isolation mixed with nothing to distract myself. I don’t attend AA on Saturday because I don’t want to risk another run-in with Chase. Not because he’s horrible and annoying. No, it’s the opposite. He’s too nice. Too understanding. Too lickable—I mean, likable! Ugh. All of which is a problem if I want to keep my space.
But after doing laundry, grocery shopping, texting Callie and Jill, and even cleaning out the interior of my car, I’m left bored and agitated. My roommates go out dancing, but I opt to stay in and binge Netflix until I fall asleep. While I love to dance, I recognize my restless energy will lead me to want a drink. I just don’t have the energy to fight the beast. Not tonight.
Which is how I end up at AA on Sunday morning, despite my apprehensions about running into a certain someone. Besides, there’s no guarantee he’ll be here. For all I know, he stopped going days ago.
“Alicia, right?” Janice, the woman I sat by last week approaches me before the meeting.
“Yes.” I smile. “Janice, how are you?”
“I’m here.” She exhales with a laugh and takes the empty chair at my right. “You settling in okay?”
“Yeah.” I nod, but that’s not entirely true. “I think so.”
“My son says you’re really good with the group. Better than last year’s coordinator.”
“Oh, good!” The compliment fills me with a much needed boost. “What’s your son’s name?” I feel stupid for not asking her at the beginning of the week.
“Tyler.”
“Oh, Tyler!” I nod, glad it’s one of the well-behaved ones so I don’t have to lie. “He’s such a good kid.”
“I think so.” She grins. “But I’m kinda biased. He seems to be coming out of his shell this summer. I don’t know. It’s hard to tell. Most of the time when I ask how his day was all I get is a grumbled ‘fine,’ but he’s made a few friends. It’s nice to see him getting invited out by a few of the other teens after volunteering.”
All of this makes my heart happy. We do our best to create a positive environment. I’m working my butt off to incorporate ways in which the teens take more ownership of the program—and in turn develop a sense of pride, community, and accomplishment. But it’s another thing to hear it’s actually working. “That makes my whole week. Seriously, I’m going to keep that in mind the next time a kid talks back.”
“Oh, is it Callum?”
“Yes!” My eyes go wide and I wince. “Crap. I probably shouldn’t have said that.”
Janice laughs and pats my knee. “You’re good. Sounds like he’s a handful.”
“Just thinks he’s really, really funny.”
“It’s important work you’re doing. Thank you.”
Her compliment hits at the core of why I moved down here this summer. I don’t need recognition or praise, but receiving it gives me a boost of confidence to stay the course. I still haven’t been accepted into grad school and am anxiously awaiting an invite from three other universities. One long shot program probably already tossed my application into the trash bin.
I want to study social work with an emphasis in the psychology of adolescent development—to better understand why teenagers make certain life choices, specific to alcohol and substance abuse. There’s a lot of study on adults in this field, but not young people. I want to be able to help teens, the way I wish someone had helped me.
The meeting begins a few minutes later but Chase doesn’t show. Not that I expect him to. Or want him here. Liar. His presence shouldn’t even be on my radar, and I’m irritated that I still look for him a good ten minutes after the meeting starts. For the next hour I focus on being present in the moment, to give my fellow addicts the attention they deserve. Rikki opens up a discussion on family and traditions, and it hits me that if I were home I’d be heading to my parents’ in a few hours. The familiar dread is replaced by a phantom ache. Will they miss me? Call to check in? They haven’t contacted me o
nce since I moved down here and I don’t expect them to. Still, it hurts.
“Traditions and patterned behaviors are a tricky thing, especially for recovering addicts. These recurring events might hold joy and commonality for others, but for us, they’re full of all the times we got drunk and passed out at Christmas. Or maybe showing up to Mom and Dad’s anniversary high as a kite. They represent some of our lowest moments and biggest hurts.”
Tears prick my eyes at the truthfulness in her words.
“Does anyone want to share their thoughts or experiences with this?”
Tom clears his throat and lifts his hand, waiting for Rikki to give him the nod to speak. “See, holidays are probably the worst for me. Birthdays especially. I wasn’t a good man, not when I’d been drinking. My kids and my ex, well, they bore the brunt of that. I’m not proud of those years. I’m ashamed.” He pauses, wiping away the tears that escape down his cheeks. “I’m ashamed that I ruined those moments for the people I love the most. I can handle the fact those days are hard for me, but knowing my kids still hate their birthdays or that my ex won’t prepare a turkey meal because just the smell of holiday foods cooking in the oven is enough to trigger a panic attack for her, well, that breaks my heart.”
He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the tears that flow freely down his face.
My heart lodges in my chest, both with a pain for his family, but also with disbelief. This man has been so kind, so calm, so welcoming not only to me but all the staff members that reside at the house. I can’t imagine him hurting anyone. It’s a reminder of the toxic, brutal power our addictions hold. That this disease turns us into someone entirely unrecognizable.
I forget sometimes that these people around me are capable of such hurtful things. That at my worst, I did whatever I wanted, no matter the consequences. That it took getting sober to grant myself the forgiveness I still don’t think I deserve. How I’m still working on loving myself, the broken, damaged parts as well as the person I am today.